


To Be The Perfect Black Swan

by Flamebreaker



Category: Black Swan (2010)
Genre: Delusions, Descent into Madness, F/F, Female Homosexuality, Femslash, Gratuitous Smut, Mental Health Issues, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 01:39:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4768742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flamebreaker/pseuds/Flamebreaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have no idea where this came from, but it had to be written. This is what is going through Nina's head in the club with Lily as she starts to lose her control and her grip on reality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Be The Perfect Black Swan

My world is spinning, falling apart, unravelling at the seams, until I cannot tell if I am facing darkness or light. Lily’s there. Sweet Lily, Black Lily, Dancing Lily. She’s the Black Swan, the perfect Black Swan, and I am so jealous and so in awe. I think I’m in love. All I think about is her, her dark eyes, her sly smile, her sharp cheekbones, so sharp that I can cut myself, the sexy curve of her hips as they sway in spin after spin after spin. Isn’t that supposed to be what love is? Obsession, possession, control. Control. CONTROL. That’s the way it is with Thomas… sometimes. No, it isn’t, because he wants me to lose control. Lily wants me to lose control, too, and it’s scary. Control is everything. Though, Lily laughs at Thomas and his wandering hands and the way he looks at me. I don’t like the way he looks at me, even though I want Lily to look at me like that. 

I make no sense. Nothing makes any sense. 

I can feel hands on my hips. I wish they are Lily’s hands. I want them to be Lily’s hands. 

They are Lily’s hands, and that sly smile is turned on me, and I am melting, but suddenly, I am really melting, black candle wax dripping off my arms, dripping onto her skin, and it is burning her, turning her skin red under the black, the wax turning into feathers, and I think she’ll fly away and leave me all alone, but she doesn’t care, and I don’t know what’s real anymore. I want to be the Black Swan; I want to be like her, just like her. 

She is perfect. 

Perfect. 

Perfect. 

Everything is about perfection. The White Swan is perfect, but I am no longer the White Swan. I am something dark. My soul is black; I can see it in the mirror when I turn into a monster. Sometimes, I sprout feathers, black feathers like the Black Swan. Sometimes, I get fangs like a snake. Sometimes, I am bleeding in the mirror, with glass in my heart, and it hurts so much and I am sure I am dying, but I don’t care. Sometimes, my legs break and I grow wings and I want to fly away as well, but I can’t, because my legs are broken. Does that make sense?

Lily said when I watched Beauty and the Beast that love isn’t like that, because the Beast never stops being a Beast, and that is why I am scared of love, because I am a Beast. I can see it in the mirror. 

But, now, I want to stop thinking, because thinking makes me black and scary, and Lily’s hands are on my waist again. She has soft hands, soft and rough, and I’m not making sense anymore, but it’s true. I know it’s true and real and not in my mind. Her hands are soft and rough. 

I can hear her voice, smoky and husky and sexy, right by my ear, and she is talking about leaving, but leaving with me, going somewhere quiet, blissfully quiet, away from this club and the pounding bass that hurts my head and all the lights that flash in front of my eyes even when I have my eyes shut. She is talking about pleasure. I follow her, because she is fire and I want to burn. I want to burn like paper and turn into smoke, because smoke is dark but it is so beautiful. I follow her fire-hands and her fire-eyes, and they set fire to my skin as she strokes my sides. I can hear her frown, about how skinny I am, but I’m not skinny. Swans have so many feathers that they never look skinny. But, my ribs are a birdcage, all sticky-outy and barred, and my heart is a swan, trapped inside. Is it the Black Swan or the White Swan that’s in there? I don’t know. 

No, no thinking. I don’t want to think. I want to feel. I want to feel perfect Lily’s hands on me. I want to follow her when she leads me to the street and back to her apartment. My mother is going to be so mad, but I don’t care because my head is spinning and falling apart and I don’t know what’s real anymore. Do I even have a mother? I hurt her. I stabbed her and she is all bruised and hurt and bleeding like me and I don’t care because I wanted her gone. 

Perfect Black Lily is breathing my name, and her hands are on my waist again, and I am back in the moment. We’re back in her apartment, in her bedroom, and everything is black and I love it. I breathe her name back. It feels like poison on my tongue. It burns. 

It burns. 

Her mouth burns on mine. She is kissing me so hard, and I’ve never done this before, but I don’t want to stop. I don’t ever want to stop. The Black Swan wins. She makes the White Swan die. I want Perfect Black Swan to consume me. 

Not hesitant anymore, I raise my head to hers, sitting straddling her hips, our teeth clashing. I think I’m kissing her back, harsh and desperate and angry, because I want this and so I will take it. It is the same with the lipstick. And the role. The Role. The Swan Queen. Both swans, Black and White. It feels so good.  


It’s bliss, a shock to all my senses as I try to take in everything at once. The older girl’s lips are firm and warm and chapped, her hand rough as she cups her palm to the back of my neck to draw me closer. Her smell – perfume and smoke and sweat – envelopes me completely, makes my head spin with its closeness. I can hear her breath speeding up as she delves to deepen the kiss and I stop breathing altogether. 

Perfect Black Lily…. I want to kiss her back harder, to get lost in her and never come up for air. Her cheek is soft against mine, her body strong and yielding at the same time, though her cheekbone is so sharp it cuts me, and I start to bleed, my face cracked like a broken egg. Her touch burns through my clothes. The body that I feel when I reciprocate is fine and bony, all angles under my inexperienced hands. The toned, tanned flesh taut over her emaciated stomach feels like pure velvet, soft and warm and feminine. I move my hands along her flat curves, hearing Lily’s ragged sigh. Her small, bare breasts pucker in the cold air. I want to be that skinny.  


Lily is leaning over me and I’m not wearing my camisole anymore. Neither is she. I don’t remember her stripping it off me, even though I desperately want to remember. Her skin is smooth and white, with those black swan’s wings across her back, visible as she kisses down my belly, toward the hem of my panties. She’s so beautifully skinny, in her black-lace panties and garter belt and stockings. So sexy… so perfect. Liquid soaks through my underclothes, hot and sticky and surprising. It blooms like a flower at her touch, roots driving down to my core, leaves stretching to every single nerve in my body, petals opening as new, unknown sensations echo through my body. 

Please… Please… Please…. I don’t know if I said it out loud or not, but suddenly I can see her tattoo when she slides her mouth down my body and then back up again – black lilies across her back. Are they lilies? I thought they are swan wings. 

They are swan wings, sprouting, growing, black feathers, smothering me. No, her kiss is smothering me, and I am being pushed backwards onto a bed, her bed, Lily’s bed. Her bare thigh slides between my legs, and I try to stop myself moaning as I push against her, her hot mouth moving from collarbone to breast, and she is sucking on my nipple, using her teeth, mashing my other breast flat with her hand. She bites down, runs her tongue along the red skin. My body jerks. 

Slowly, perfect, perfect Lily slides her mouth down my body again, until she is tearing my panties off and sinking down between my legs. Her cheekbones are so sharp, so sharp they cut me, and I can feel the blood gushing down my legs with rushes of pain. It hurts so much, but the pain is good. I want her to cut me. I wonder if it tastes nice, given how readily she laps up the blood. 

Oh…

I close my eyes, but I can still see her head framed by my thighs. I can feel it, intense and consuming, and I want to melt. I don’t even know what’s happening. I think I yelp aloud, stiffening, squirming, helpless as she kisses me but doesn’t kiss me because she’s kissing all the places I’m not supposed to know I have. Now, every nerve is tingling, everywhere her mouth or hands brushes, the join of my legs, my breasts, my belly, my thighs…. The sensation of touch is magnified so much. I am attuned to everything at once; the strong hands dancing over my skin, ripping my nerves themselves raw with their tantalizingly gentle strokes, ripping me apart and making me bleed, the warmth and wetness of her mouth as she suckles at my clitoris. The feeling of it drives me mad. 

I can only just sense myself arching my spine until my vertebrae creak. My hands are white-knuckled in the tangled, coarse sheets, eyes so tightly shut that bright dots spark across my vision. I don’t know what is happening. The feeling of her mouth… 

“Lily….” I try to sit up, “What’s happening?”

“Sshhh,” is the reply, “You’ll see. It’s fine, Nina. Oh, sweet, innocent Nina. The perfect little White Swan….” She bites down harder on my clitoris, and I groan loudly.  
I am falling apart. 

It starts as a trickle, this feeling of frenzied delirium. It grows like the tide, gathering energy, more, more. It floods my whole body with the force of a tsunami, pleasure cresting on a breaking wave, intense, consuming. 

“Lily…!” I cry out loud. I can feel a little trickle of wetness leak from between my thighs as muscles that I don’t know I own clench hard. “Oh!” 

Slowly, the intensity of the feeling begins to swill away, and I settle again, the tension draining out of my muscles and my body going limp and boneless on the mattress. I am all black wax, staining her silk sheets, sticky and congealing and made of nothing, no control. All my control is gone and I am weak and nothing and scared, but I am too turned on to be scared. Besides, I look in the mirror across the room and see snake fangs between my lips. I am a Beast. I cannot be afraid. 

I turn over to bring a hand up to cup her pert breast, brushing my thumb across her nipple like she has touched me. Its weight feels solid and warm in my palm, covered only by her pretty, toned skin. I roll her nipple lightly between my thumb and forefinger. My touch brings a moan, and her head tips back on the pillow. 

Hesitantly, I sit up and move a hand to brush over Lily’s hip. So beautifully skinny… so perfectly Black Swan….

“I want… I want to make you feel the same as you made me feel,” I whisper. I want to be dark and bad. I want to be bad. The Black Swan is bad and I need to be the Black Swan. I need to lose control again, because Lily-the-Perfect-Black-Swan has taken control from me for once, and it is beautiful and I want to be consumed and devoured and destroyed and twisted. 

Lily obediently strips off her stockings and garter belt and panties, and lies back on the black-silk sheet and pulls me on top of her, my body between her legs. Her kiss is fiery and consuming, passionate, before she forces my head down her body. I don’t know what to do, but I don’t want to ask. 

“Oh, yeah… Innocent, little Nina…. Enjoy yourself, White Swan.” 

Working on instinct alone, I move my hands from Lily’s hips to her breasts, cupping the swells, thumbing her hard, dark nipples. Hesitantly, I lower my head, running the tip of my tongue over the puckered nubs, licking, then sucking, then biting. The slim body beneath mine jerks.

“Nina!” Her bony hips buck up, just slightly, her back arching to bring her body closer to my hand. I know that I wouldn’t have wanted to wait so long for such pleasure. I silently thank Lily for her patience. 

Slowly, dragging her mouth up to mine, Lily takes my hand and guides it between her legs. She lays my hand against her womanhood, and I cup her, feeling a hot, sticky wetness on my fingers as I stroke her hesitantly. I startle in shock. So, it isn’t something strange happening to just my body alone. The older girl just smiles. 

“Don’t look so worried; it is supposed to feel like that. The wetness just means I want to fuck you into next week. Cute, little, virgin Nina.”

“Oh.” 

Lily shows me how to pleasure her, how to touch her, how to make her feel good. I do my best, rubbing my fingers against her… nerves, sliding my fingers inside her when her moans make me brave, sucking her nipples like she has done to me. The Black Swan seems to react, closing her eyes and bucking her hips and whispering lewd encouragements, so I figure I am doing okay. 

And, I find that my body… reacts to watching the black-haired girl writhe below me. It reacted by… making the wetness that Lily says means I want… sex. I stroke her harder, pushing my fingers in deeper, making her howl like a wildcat and rut against my hand. 

Suddenly, Lily’s whole body goes stiff, and she arches back with a yell. Her hips jerk hard against my hand, and her spine contorts. She looks like she is being tortured, her face all scrunched up and eyes tight shut and mouth open. 

I start to pull away, not sure what is happening, thinking I may have hurt her, but her hand shoots out and presses my fingers into her folds. I can feel her body clenching around my hand, and more wetness gushes down my fingers. It’s acid, burning my skin, and I can see my hand smouldering and smoking and so beautiful and so dark. 

“No, keep going…. Don’t stop! Oh…! Nina, keep doing that….”

Lily’s whole body jerks once more, and then she lies still, panting. Her eyes are dilated and dark when she looks up at me. It looks a little frightening, but Lily kisses me again, harshly. 

I asked what have just happened, half-scared it have been nothing more than a dream. 

But, then, her eyes are getting bigger and darker until all I can see is eyes and she has no body left, it is only a pair of floating, sexy eyes staring at me, and she is staring into my soul, right down deep into the blackness and the pain, and she knows I’m not the White Swan anymore. I can hear her laughing, and feathers, black feathers start to sprout from her eyelashes, and then they cover the floating eyes, and a Black Swan flies out my bedroom window, even though I was in her house and I was in her bed, now I am in my own bed, and everything that was black is now pink, and Lily has taken everything, because she is PERFECT, and I am nothing, a mass of grey smoke between White and Black, translucent, disappearing, nothing. 

Nothing. 

My world is spinning, falling apart, unravelling at the seams, until I cannot tell if I am facing darkness or light.


End file.
